San Diego Slaughter

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San Diego Slaughter Page 2

by Robert Boren


  Doug scanned the area through his weapons sight, seeing some other vehicles rolling past them. “Damn, those L-ATVs are a lot faster than this, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah,” Gonzalez said. “They’re scouting.”

  “Hey, Gonzales, how far is it to our deployment location?” asked Sessions, one of the Marines in the back, in a Georgia accent. “It smells like Jenkins’s dirty socks in here.”

  “Hey, screw you man,” said Jenkins, a buff black Marine with a big grin. “You’re smelling yourself.”

  “We’ll let you know when the scouts in the L-ATVs report in,” Gonzales said. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. The longer you stay in here, the less time you’re out there walking through scorpions and sidewinders.”

  Several of the Marines chuckled, Doug shaking his head.

  Suddenly there was a large explosion, the flash looking about a hundred yards out.

  “Crap,” Gonzalez said. “One of the L-ATVs just ran over an IED.”

  “Hey, dude, it’s still rolling,” Jorge said from the driver’s seat. “Should I go over there?”

  “Negative,” Gonzalez said. “Those vehicles are better equipped to handle IEDs than this is. Steer way wide. As a matter of fact, focus on vehicles who get through without hitting anything and follow their tracks as best you can.”

  “Got it,” Jorge said.

  “Looks like those guys are all fine,” Doug said, watching through his FLIR gunsight. “They’re getting back into their vehicle now.”

  “Yeah, I see them,” Gonzalez said. “Most of the time those things can keep going.”

  “Yeah, unless there’s a hit too close to the tires,” Jenkins said. “Hopefully somebody checked.”

  Doug turned from his sight. “They had several men crawl underneath. All the tires got looked at.”

  “I was in one of those damn things when we rolled over an IED once,” Sessions said. “Not one of those small ones. An old MRAP. Didn’t hear good for a frigging week.”

  There was another explosion further up.

  “Dammit, they’ve mined this whole damn area,” Gonzalez said. “You doing okay up there, Jorge? Still keeping a bead on a good path?”

  “Yes sir,” he replied. “That L-ATV isn’t moving.”

  “The guys are okay, though,” Doug said. “They’re all out of their vehicle.”

  “So what now?” Jorge asked. “They on foot?”

  “They’ll figure out if it’s fixable or not,” Gonzalez said. “If it’s not, they’ll end up hooking up with some of the other vehicles. There’s several more waves coming.”

  “If the enemy is smart, they’ll have their mortars aimed at the places with no explosives,” Jenkins said. “That way, when the later vehicles roll through, they’ll be funneled into a smaller area that their mortars are already targeted on.”

  “Let’s hope they aren’t that smart,” Doug said.

  “They were that smart in Syria,” Sessions said.

  “Yeah they were,” Jenkins replied.

  “We’re near the one that’s stopped,” Jorge said. “Are we picking up?”

  “No, they’ll get picked up later,” Gonzalez said. “We don’t have room.”

  They rolled along for another several miles, no more IEDs encountered, and then there was an explosion, three hundred yards ahead of them.

  “Here it starts,” Jenkins said.

  “Was that mortar fire?” Jorge asked, his question punctuated by another explosion.

  “Yep,” Gonzalez said. “Stay on a good path and speed up. See that ridge? We might be able to see the enemy mortar team with the FLIR system if we’re high enough up.”

  “Looks like another BFV is thinking the same thing,” Jorge said. “They’re gonna beat us there.”

  “They’d better be careful,” Gonzalez said, watching them stray into a path not yet traveled, his comment cut off by another mortar explosion, only fifty yards to their east.

  “What happens if we get hit with one of those mortar shells?” Doug asked.

  “Depends on where it hits us,” Gonzalez said. “These are more survivable against mortar rounds than the L-ATVs, so don’t worry about it too much.”

  There was a massive explosion sixty yards out, the BFV ahead of them blowing up.

  “Dammit!” Gonzalez shouted. “That’s why you follow a path that’s already been used.”

  “Shit, that thing is fully engulfed in flames,” Jorge said. The ammo rounds blew seconds later, pieces of vehicle and men flying in every direction.

  “You know what you’re doing up there, driver?” Jenkins shouted.

  “Yes sir, I’m sticking to a path already traveled,” Jorge shouted back. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there in one piece.”

  “No pun intended,” Sessions said.

  “You’re a sick puppy,” Jenkins said. “We probably knew those guys.”

  “War is war.”

  “We’re almost to the ridge,” Doug said.

  Another mortar round blew up, behind them this time by about seventy yards, narrowly missing an L-ATV.

  “We’re there,” Jorge said, pulling up to the crest of the small ridge. “Says we’re on an eight-degree angle. I can go up a little more and it’ll level out, but we’ll be more exposed.

  “Don’t bother, I can see what I need to see,” Doug said, looking through his FLIR sight as more mortar rounds fell.

  “Hurry up, man, they’re increasing their rate of fire,” Sessions shouted.

  “M242, right?” Doug asked.

  “Yeah, with the anti-personnel frag rounds,” Gonzalez said. “Try a few single shots to test your aim, then go to full auto.”

  “You got it,” Doug said, looking at the men moving on the green screen, their bodies showing bright against a darker green background. He fired, the round going off, killing several men, others rushing up to take their place at the mortar, as machine gun fire started, the armor of the BFV pinging. Two more mortar shells fell, one of them a little too close for comfort, the impact shaking the vehicle.

  “C’mon, man, end those guys,” Jenkins shouted.

  “Here goes nothing,” Doug said, pushing the button for auto-fire and pulling the trigger, peppering the mortar nest with high-explosive rounds, killing almost all the enemy fighters manning the mortars, the barrage stopping. By that time there were more BFVs up along the ridge, most of them firing into the large group of men, who were coming towards the line at a fast trot. Then the L-ATVs started flying over the top of the ridge and down into the valley below, guns blazing.

  “Be careful not to hit our guys!” Gonzalez shouted as Doug wailed away at the enemy with the M242.

  “Don’t worry, I’m way beyond where they are. This gun is insane. How much ammo we got?”

  Gonzalez looked over at Doug and grinned. “Plenty, but don’t fire auto bursts that are too long, or you’ll overheat the gun. See anybody setting up more mortars?”

  “Nope, the enemy fighters are trying to find cover. A lot of them are being killed by the machine guns on those L-ATVs. Should I use ours?”

  “No, hold that in reserve.”

  “Tank, coming in from the west,” Jorge said. “See it?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Jorge said. “Remember how the TOW Missiles work?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Doug said. “Want me to fire one?”

  There was a whoosh from a nearby BFV, a missile flying towards the tank, hitting it broadside, just under the turret, popping the whole assembly off.

  “Whoa, dude, that was awesome,” Jorge shouted.

  “See any more?” Doug asked.

  “I’m on it with the CIV,” Gonzalez said. “It’s got a better picture. I don’t see any more, but there’s a ridge to the west where that first one came from. Might be more over there.”

  “What if there are a bunch of battle tanks over there?” Doug asked. “We’ve only got six TOW missiles, right?”

  Gonzalez backed away from his CIV eyepiece and glance
d at him. “Look to the east and west, along the ridge. We’ve got most of the first fifty BFVs lining up. They got six TOW missiles a piece. Don’t lose your nerve on me, okay?”

  Jenkins laughed. “You let us know if there’s a bunch of tanks, and we’ll get out of this tin bucket.”

  “Shut up, man,” Gonzalez said.

  “There’s a whole lot more enemy fighters coming up behind that first batch,” Doug said, looking through his sight. “Some of them are carrying mortars.”

  “So we blast them before they can set them up,” Gonzalez said. “That’s our job.”

  “The L-ATVs are in a good position,” Jorge said. “I don’t think those enemy fighters know they’re there.”

  “Oh, they know, believe me,” Gonzalez said. “This battle is gonna be a bloodbath.”

  “You want me to kill anybody trying to set up a mortar, right?” Doug asked.

  Gonzalez nodded. “Yeah, as long as there aren’t any of our guys in the way.”

  “Hey, dude, tanks, see them?” Jorge shouted. “I can just see the main guns of a couple of them now, coming up from the ridge.”

  “Knew it,” Gonzalez said. “Get ready on that TOW launcher. Remember we’ve only got two, then we have to load more missiles. Remember how we did it?”

  “Yeah, no problem,” Doug said.

  There was a massive blast, and a BFV about sixty yards to the west blew apart.

  “Oh crap!” Doug said, his heart pounding.

  “We’re getting out,” Jenkins said.

  “Yeah, go for it,” Gonzalez said, hitting the button to drop the rear door. “Set up your mortar and wail away.”

  ***

  Ivan was watching PC screens with the intel team, all of them focused on the long-range detailed app. Sam and the rest of the leadership team walked in, chatting amongst themselves.

  “Great, you’re here,” Ivan said. “How are things up-top?”

  “We got the timbers here,” Garrett said. “Still gonna be slow going on the main entrance, I’m afraid. Maybe we ought to move this hardware into a building.”

  “No, it safer down here,” Jules said.

  “I agree,” Ted said. “What are you guys watching? The battle in Mexico?”

  “Yeah,” Robbie said, turning from the screen. “It’s starting to ramp up now.”

  “That’s gonna be a tough battle, partner,” Tex said. “I’d rather be here.”

  “Let’s chat about the UN base,” Ivan said. “Find a seat. There’s more folding chairs over in the corner there.”

  Everybody gathered around with chairs, and Ivan nodded to Ben, who showed a satellite view of the UN base on the largest monitor they had.

  “That’s a huge space,” Ted said, looking at the screen, with it’s dark red outline around the target area. “How dense are they?”

  “We don’t know for sure,” Ivan said.

  “That’s why you asked us to be on the recon team, right?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, but there have been some further developments,” Ivan said. “Mr. White and Mr. Black made some friends.”

  “Friends?” Ted asked.

  “Locals who’ve been watching, and don’t like the UN,” Ivan said.

  “One in Teamster’s Union,” Jules said. “We talk to them about joining attack.”

  “Teamsters, huh?” Tex asked. “How many?”

  “Over a thousand,” Ivan said, “but more on that later.”

  “We’re still going in to check it out, though, right?” Sam asked. “We don’t need any nasty surprises when we’ve got our pants around our ankles.”

  Jules chuckled. “You and me on same page. Local help great, will pay off, but we need to look for ourselves.”

  Ivan nodded. “I’m okay with that, as long as we have a plan that makes me confident.”

  “Confident about what?” Sparky asked.

  “Confident that we won’t lose the best men on our team,” Ivan said. “We’re going to hit this base with overwhelming force. I want to know as much as we can, but we have to balance risk and reward carefully.”

  “Then we’ll come up with a good plan,” Sam said.

  Ivan’s phone rang. He answered it, walking away from the group.

  “Uh oh,” Jules said. “Seen that look before.”

  Ivan was back in a flash. “Mr. White and Mr. Black are seeing movement of UN vans from the base.”

  “Where are they going?” Garrett asked. “They getting on I-8?”

  “Going east on Broadway,” Ivan said. His phone dinged with a new text, which he took a moment to read. “Turning south on 2nd Street. Our assets are following them, but it’s tough, because there’s still vans leaving the base.”

  “Put the map of El Cajon up on that screen,” Ted said.

  Ben loaded the map program, using his cursor to point out Broadway. “There it is. And here’s 2nd Street.”

  Sam’s brow furrowed. “They could take that to Highway 94.”

  “That leads here,” Morgan said.

  Ivan nodded. “Yes, it does. Better alert everybody.”

  { 2 }

  The Quadrant

  T revor and Kaylee were in their battle wagon when the text came in. They both looked at their phones, then at each other.

  “This is bad,” Kaylee said. “That’s a lot of UN vans.”

  “We aren’t one hundred percent sure they’re coming here, you know.”

  “How far away are they?”

  Trevor looked over at her from his phone. “Looking at that now. Just under twenty miles. If they don’t run into trouble, they’re about half an hour from here.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t get too worried yet. We’ve got a lot of people in place along Highway 94, remember? They’re coming in un-armored vans, too. They won’t take much abuse, and if the highway gets blocked, it’s not like they can off-road.”

  “Then why would they come this way?” Kaylee asked.

  “That’s why I’m not so sure they’re really coming here. They might have another target in mind.”

  “Where are our people on Highway 94?” Kaylee asked.

  “There’s about three thousand by Otay Lakes Road. The lion’s share are south of us, around Engineer Springs. Almost ten thousand citizens.”

  “I guess that would figure, if we’re expecting the enemy to attack us from Mexico.”

  Trevor shot her a grin. “Last I saw of that battle in Mexico, the enemy forces aren’t gonna make it here.”

  They both jumped as another text came in. “They’re not coming here,” Kaylee said. “Southwest on Highway 54.

  “But we’re going there. I’ll get us unhooked.”

  “Which route?” Kaylee asked.

  “I’m sure we’ll get instructions in a moment, but looking at the map, the only good way is Otay Lake Road. It’ll be a struggle to beat them there, though, assuming they’re gonna try to take Highway 125 south to the border.”

  “I’ll get things locked down in here, then. Glad we reloaded all the weapons.”

  “See you in a few minutes,” Trevor said, slipping out the door. He saw Angel rushing to the back of his coach, parked about twenty yards away.

  “We’re gonna see some action,” he said. “I’m almost glad.”

  Trevor nodded. “Yeah. Wonder if we can beat them there?”

  “We’ll see. Hear that?”

  The sound of starting engines drifted over the property.

  “All those recruits,” Trevor said as he unhooked the water. “Hope they’re sending the citizens who were along Highway 94.”

  “Where were they?” Angel asked, as he yanked the power cord off the mast.

  “They were close to Otay Lake Road. Hopefully they’re already taking off. We might need to block the road.”

  “Highway 125?” Angel asked.

  “Yeah. We ought to be hearing any minute. I’m done. See you, man.”

  “Take care, dude,” Angel said, heading for the door of his coach.<
br />
  “Ready to go?” Kaylee asked.

  “Yeah, did we get the instructions?”

  “North on Highway 94, stop at Otay Lake Road unless we hear from them.”

  “They’re making sure,” Trevor said, pushing the button for the main slide. It moved in slowly. When it was finished, he brought in the bedroom slide, then went to the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. “Ready?”

  “Let’s go,” Kaylee said, walking to the passenger seat with her M4 and one of the M60s. She sat as Trevor drove towards the gate.

  ***

  “You call our Teamster buddies?” Mr. White asked, walking out of the motel room’s bath.

  “Yes, they hitting the road soon. Three thousand semi-trucks.”

  “Sounds like traffic jam in making,” Mr. White said. “Glad Ivan get weapons here in time. Lots M-60, mortars, and RPGs. Distributed at Teamster’s union hall.”

  “Excellent, let’s go.”

  The two men grabbed their weapons and headed for their van, setting the guns between the seats. Mr. Black took the wheel. “What about others?”

  “Jesse gathered three hundred. They already left. Heavily armed. All have military training. They tip of spear.”

  “Are we trying to stop them on road?” Mr. Black asked.

  “We do what we can, and Ivan send forces from Dulzura. Another four thousand, including all but three battle wagons.”

  Mr. Black glanced at him. “Why not all? We know where enemy is, and Dulzura have cavalry.”

  Mr. White chuckled. “They use generators from last three battle wagons to power computers in broken mine.”

  “Oh. They should buy stand-alone generators.”

  Mr. White nodded. “Would have. Not time. This happen fast.”

  “What we do about Dana Point Harbor?”

  “You worry too much,” Mr. White said. “Either moot point, or we mess with. Depend on this fight, no?”

  “This wasn’t all the UN forces. Have to watch back.”

  “That be part of our job,” Mr. White said. “Let’s hit it.” They went out the door. Mr. White got behind the wheel, Mr. Black in the passenger seat.

  Mr. Black’s phone dinged. “Shit.” He pulled it out and looked. “It boss. Get on road to Dana Point.”

 

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